


Dancing With Your Ghost

by gaysadandtired



Series: NCT + WayV Collection [34]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood, Car Accidents, Coping, Doyoung is dead, Funerals, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry Lee Taeyong, Lee Taeyong-centric, Loss, M/M, References to Depression, Song fic, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, doyoung is dead and taeyong is greiving, this is just sad im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysadandtired/pseuds/gaysadandtired
Summary: Taeyong lost his love two months ago, but he still waits for Doyoung to come home.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Series: NCT + WayV Collection [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639213
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Dancing With Your Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so fucking sorry but I'm in so much pain. I cried pretty much every few minutes after this reached 5k words. I'm usually a pretty emotionless person that hardly ever cries but FUCK why did I do this to myself?
> 
> If there's any mistakes, please forgive me, I wrote most of this through tears.
> 
> You know how bly manor was fucking painful? At least there were happy moments there, this is just suffering. I blame [ this ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1TQXIltqoZ5XXyfCbAeSQQ) song.
> 
> I'm sorry.

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

Lone drops of water kept dripping out of the leaky faucet. It never got fixed in the end, even though Doyoung promised he would do it – or at the very least he would call someone over to fix it for them. It started back in February, and for months, Taeyong had grown accustomed to the steady drip of water. Each night, he would hear just that. 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

It was the only sense of rhythm and routine Taeyong had now. All he had was the drip-drop of water, always falling down like clockwork. It echoed throughout the house, reverberating within the empty walls. Taeyong only had that now. Instead of Doyoung’s calm breaths behind him as they laid comfortably under the covers, he had the leaky faucet to keep him company. 

It was all he had left. 

It was all he had since Doyoung passed away. 

A leaky faucet and a shattered heart. 

Doyoung was gone – had been for what was two months now. To Taeyong, those two months felt like a single day which dragged on and on, the end never in his line of sight. He was stuck in his own version of hell, waiting every single minute of every single day for the love of his life to walk through the front doors, to hear him shuffle out of his shoes and jacket, to throw his keys to the side as he stepped inside, his slippers dragging across the wooden floors, heading over to join Taeyong. 

Taeyong waited, and waited, and waited. 

But the door never opened. There was no shuffling, no clattering of keys in a bowl. No slippers across the floorboards. No other breathing – no other voice – other than Taeyong’s. 

There was only silence and the dripping of the leaking faucet. 

It was hell – a hell Taeyong wasn’t entirely sure he would ever escape. 

Because how? How could he possibly even begin to claw his way out of this constant state of torment? The only way he imagined that would happen would be if he forgot Doyoung, if he completely erased the man out of his memory. But he couldn’t do that; there was no way on earth, in heaven and hell, that Taeyong could ever even dare to forget the only man he has ever loved in his life. It would have been so much easier to just forget he ever existed than to admit the truth. 

However, there was no way that Taeyong could even begin to erase all the memories they shared together, from their first meeting as kids, to their first kiss, their first _I love you_ , their engagement, moving in together, planning a life together. 

To the end. 

Taeyong wished he could just erase the last part. He wished he could forget that ever happened. It would be easier to simply pretend that Doyoung never came home for another reason. It was easier to pretend they broke up than to acknowledge the fact Kim Doyoung – the love of his life, his world and everything – was dead. 

That he had been dead for two months, and that those two months would become three, four, a year, two years, down to infinity. 

Doyoung was dead, and he would stay that way forever. There was nothing Taeyong could do about it, even if he stayed up every night, hoping, wishing, praying for his love to come back to him. Taeyong would give anything – absolutely _anything_ – to bring Doyoung back. But that didn’t mean anything. Nothing could bring Doyoung back, not even Taeyong. 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

Taeyong’s mind loved to wonder though. He wondered what he could have done differently if he had a chance to go back in time. It was his fault, after all. Doyoung was dead because of him – not because of the driver that crashed into Doyoung, not because of the paramedics who couldn’t reach and save him in time, but because of Taeyong. 

It was all because of Taeyong. He was the one that deserved to be blamed. 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

Doyoung was walking around the kitchen when Taeyong got out of the shower, a towel thrown over his shoulders, wet hair dripping onto his grey t-shirt. He couldn’t wait any longer to get cleaned up after lounging around all day, body icky and sticky. 

“You done?” Doyoung asked, poking his head around the corner to look at his fiancé. 

Taeyong hummed, walking in to join Doyoung in the kitchen. “All clean and fresh,” he stated, his feet shuffling across the cold floor. Doyoung had stolen his slipper again. How typical. 

“Good,” the younger mused. “Maybe now you won’t be stinking up the whole place.” 

Taeyong scoffed, a hand over his chest. “Did you just call me stinky?” 

“I said nothing,” Doyoung argued, playing dumb. “But if you say so...” 

“Wow, Doie,” Taeyong tutted. “Way to be mean. To me of all people.” 

Doyoung chuckled, reaching his hand out for Taeyong. “Okay, I’m sorry, Yongie.” 

Taeyong frowned, eyes glancing down at Doyoung’s extended hand. The younger man inched it closer to him, causing Taeyong’s frown to dissolve, a humoured smile finding its way onto his face in its wake. Even acting annoyed at the younger man was pretty much impossible; Taeyong could barely go a day of being angry at Doyoung on the off chance they did have an argument, so acting definitely came hard for him. All Taeyong had for Doyoung was love. 

“Are you gonna hold it or what?” 

Taeyong gave in, joining their hands together. 

Doyoung instantly pulled the older in, resulting in Taeyong letting out a surprised yelp at the act as he found himself pressed to Doyoung’s chest. 

“Using brute force, I see?” 

Doyoung snorted. “Brute force? I barely did anything.” 

“You pulled me in violently,” said. “You could have popped my arm off.” 

“Oh, of course, I forgot how delicate you are,” Doyoung joked, leaning his face in closer towards Taeyong’s, the gap between their lips shrinking. “Forgive me.” 

“Forgive you? I don’t think I can.” 

The younger laughed, closing the distance between them. He slotted their lips together, successfully shutting Taeyong up. Taeyong didn’t protest though, simply humming into the sweet exchange, his hands going up to cup Doyoung’s jaw to keep him in place. He could never really get enough of this feeling – of having Doyoung so close, their bodies pressed against one another, a soothing, comforting warmth surrounding them as they both caused time to stop around them, the world completely still for those tender moments. 

Doyoung’s arm snaked around Taeyong’s lithe waist, bringing him in even closer. Taeyong smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Doyoung’s neck, accepting that he wasn’t going anywhere for the next few minutes. 

They stayed liked that, tangled in each other’s loving embrace, lips joined and tongues slowly waltzing together. They had no other places to be other than there, standing in the middle of their small kitchen, the only noises being their breaths, the low hum of the fridge and the rhythmic splash of water leaking out from the faucet. 

Taeyong would have described that as his version of heaven, but then again, everything felt like heaven when he was with Doyoung. 

It was Taeyong’s grumbling stomach that ruined the mood. 

“Hungry?” Doyoung asked, voice humoured. 

“Maybe...” 

“You’re lucky,” Doyoung stated. “I was about to make us dinner.” 

Curious, Taeyong glanced over at the kitchen counters to see what Doyoung had in store for them. He already had a few vegetables washed in the sink and a packet of meat left by the stove. 

“Well would you look at that,” Taeyong mused. “Is chef Kim Doyoung making a comeback?” 

“You say that as if I haven’t cooked in ages,” the younger whined. “And I have! I made dinner last week!” 

“And it was delicious,” Taeyong praised, placing a kiss to Doyoung’s lips. “Do you want me to help?” 

“By help do you mean actual help or will you just pretend to do something useful whilst you check me out for an hour like last time?” Doyoung asked, his brow cocked. 

“What can I say, Doie, you’re so hot when you cook,” Taeyong said. 

Doyoung rolled his eyes. 

“And I’ll help,” Taeyong affirmed. “Though don’t blame me if I take a few short breaks to admire the view.” 

“Shameless,” Doyoung uttered. “Shameless. That’s what you are.” 

“Is that so bad?” Taeyong questioned, raising his hand up to show off his engagement ring. The two had a matching pair, one gold the other silver. It was nothing grand but it was just enough to let everyone know that they came as a set – that Doyoung and Taeyong couldn’t be separated. “You never had a problem with me being shameless, right, Doie? You even put a ring on this shameless man.” 

“You’re still shameless,” Doyoung muttered. “Now get to work, chop up the vegetables.” Doyoung ordered the older, leaving a light tap on Taeyong’s ass to get him going. The older man laughed, retaliating with a matching – if not harder – slap on Doyoung’s own ass. Doyoung was about to complain when Taeyong finally moved to the sink, pulling out the washed vegetables to cut them up. “You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbled. 

Taeyong blew him a kiss and winked. 

The men prepared their meal together, eating right after it was done. Taeyong had wiped down the small round dining table, placing all the papers and other knickknacks to the side to make some room for their food. Taeyong and Doyoung were an overall clean pair, both frequently going on cleaning frenzies, but on their days off work where they just decided to be lazy and do nothing, the house tended to lose the fresh sparkle, even if for just one day. 

Doyoung plated up and brought everything over. It wasn’t anything exceptional nor out of this world, yet to Taeyong it was the best meal imaginable, all because it was made by the two of them together. Taeyong loved those meals the most. 

But it wasn’t just him; when Doyoung’s parents came to visit the two men last year after they shared the news of their engagement, Doyoung’s parents made a comment on how the food they prepared was filled with sheer love. And it was true; everything the men did together was the best ultimate outcome. It always felt to Taeyong like a way in which the universe was telling them that they were simply meant to be. 

The fiancés were sat around the table long after they had finished eating their meal, chatting about nothing to everything, from the weather to some trivial thing that happened to them at their workplaces. Doyoung could have talked to Taeyong about literally anything, even about a single speck of dust he saw that day, and Taeyong would still listen intently, following every word and taking it all to heart. And he knew for a fact that Doyoung would do the same. 

“You want something to drink?” Doyoung asked as he slowly collected their empty plates, stacking them as he got ready to stand up. 

“Hmm... it’s too late for coffee,” Taeyong mused. 

“I’m having decaf if you want one too.” 

“Sure,” Taeyong replied. “I’ll have that then.” 

“Great.” 

Doyoung carried the plates out into the kitchen, placing them in the sink. 

“I’ll wash them, you make us drinks,” Taeyong said, lightly pushing Doyoung away from the sink. 

“If you insist, sure.” 

Taeyong turned the tap on, rinsing the dishes under hot water. He could have also just left them there until the dishwasher finally turned off, but that would mean having to wait for another twenty minutes or so, and then he’d have to empty it out and Taeyong really couldn’t have been bothered to do that. Washing the dishes manually felt like less of a chore in the moment. 

Whilst Taeyong was carefully cleaning everything, Doyoung grabbed two mugs from the overhead cupboard, placing them down on the counter. He poured the water from the water filter into the kettle, putting it on as he went to grab the coffee. 

At least that’s what he intended to do. 

After rummaging through their tea and coffee cupboard for a minute or two, Doyoung looked over at Taeyong. 

“Did you buy any coffee when you went shopping last time?” 

“I- I did,” Taeyong replied, though he doubted himself in the moment. “Why? Is it not there?” 

“Nope,” Doyoung replied. “And I'm pretty sure we don’t have sugar or honey either.” 

Taeyong turned the tap off before he wiped his wet hands on a towel, walking over to where Doyoung was stood. He looked through, picking up the tubs used to store their different teas. There really wasn’t any coffee, normal nor decaf. And as Doyoung mentioned, they also didn’t have anything to sweeten their drinks with. 

“I’m sorry, I must’ve forgotten.” 

“It’s fine,” Doyoung assured. “I’ll go to the shops and grab some.” 

“Will you?” 

“Yeah,” Doyoung replied. “I’ll also grab us some snacks if you want.” 

“Please,” Taeyong said enthusiastically. 

“I thought you’d say that,” Doyoung stated, a soft curve up to his lips. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, how about you find us something to watch?” 

“There’s a new show on Netflix,” Taeyong pointed out. “How about we binge watch it all tonight?” 

“Sounds like a solid plan,” the younger replied. “I’ll see you in a few.” 

Doyoung walked out of the kitchen, making his way to the foyer. He slipped on his coat and shoes, grabbing his keys. 

“Yongie,” he called out. 

“What is it?” 

“Where’s my wallet?” 

Taeyong chuckled, walking out of the kitchen to join Doyoung. “Really?” 

“I can’t find it,” Doyoung moaned. 

“Have you tried your pockets.” 

“Have I tried checking my pockets?” Doyoung repeated in a mocking tone. “Do you take me as an idiot? Honestly?” 

“Are you sure you want an answer to that?” Taeyong asked, smirking at the younger. 

“Yongie,” Doyoung continued to whine. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll find it for you. I doubt it’s hidden anyway,” he said. And of course, he was right. Doyoung had left his wallet on the dresser in their bedroom. Taeyong quickly grabbed it and headed back to the entrance. “There,” he said, passing the item over. “What would you do without me?” 

“Die, probably,” Doyoung uttered as he checked his card and cash were there. 

“So dramatic,” Taeyong teased. 

“Yet you still love me.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Taeyong agreed, leaning over to kiss Doyoung. 

“Any special requests?” 

“Chocolate?” 

“Noted,” Doyoung said. “Coffee, sugar, chocolate and snacks. Won’t take me long.” 

“Off you go then,” Taeyong murmured, leaving another kiss to Doyoung’s lips. “And don’t take too long or I’ll start watching without you.” 

“I won’t, I promise.” 

“Good.” 

With that, Doyoung stepped out, the doors clicking shut behind him. 

Taeyong went back to the kitchen to clean whatever mess there was. He left the mugs Doyoung put out as they were, however, as he stared at one of them – the one which Doyoung bought for him, thinking it would be something Taeyong would like since it had cute cartoon puppies printed on it – he decided to make himself tea. He preferred tea to coffee anyway. Plus, he could always have another drink once Doyoung came back from the shop. 

Taeyong didn’t move Doyoung’s mug – one with a matching design, though this one with cute little bunnies. Doyoung loved that mug so much, using it constantly even though they had so many to choose from. Taeyong found that rather endearing. 

He quickly made himself a drink, choosing one of their fruity teas to have. 

Once he was done, Taeyong walked over to the living room, sitting himself down on the couch and turning on the T.V. Since Doyoung would most likely be gone for twenty minutes or so, Taeyong decided to sneak in a short episode of one of the cooking shows he was watching in his free time. Taeyong wasn’t the best baker in the world, but watching the contestants come up with the most fantastical treats made him want to get in the kitchen and whip up a batch of cupcakes, even if they ended up looking and tasting way worse than what he saw on screen. 

There were still ten minutes left of the previous episode he was watching so he turned that on in the meantime. 

As the minutes slowly passed by, Taeyong decided to quickly text Doyoung in hope that he would still be at the store. 

**Doie** ** <333 **

Could you get me some sweet potato chips?? 

I ate all of them already and I NEED them 

_Read, 17:46_

Can be done 

I’ll get a few packs for you 

God you’re perfect 

Love you, Doie <3 

_Read, 17:48_

Love you too, Yongie 

Taeyong tossed his phone aside, returning to watching his show. He had the volume low enough to hear the rain outside, the drops hitting against the window with growing intensity. It started slow and gentle and started pouring it down within a minute. 

Taeyong just hoped Doyoung didn’t get caught in the downpour. The younger most likely stopped by the shop down two blocks so he wouldn’t have taken the car, but that only meant he would get soaked if he didn’t bring an umbrella with him. 

Taeyong had a feeling Doyoung didn’t bring one. 

The younger man would either have to walk home in the rain or he would have to wait it out. Then again, Taeyong could also go out and bring Doyoung an umbrella, but he honestly felt too lazy. Doyoung was a good boyfriend – a fantastic one at that – but it was all on him for not checking the weather. Taeyong was already so comfortable on the couch, all warm with a nice cup of tea in his hold. Besides, he could always make it up to Doyoung later in one way or another. They would find a way. 

But the minutes passed, and one episode became two, and those two episodes were far too long to watch without Doyoung not coming back yet. 

At a certain point, Taeyong was getting worried. 

Was Doyoung really about to wait out the rain? It didn’t look like it was about to stop any time soon, so that was a beyond stupid idea. 

Taeyong checked the time, his heart sinking when he noticed just how long his fiancé was taking to get back home. It was already six, practically seven and there still was no sign of Doyoung. 

Anxious, Taeyong went to his text messages, checking if maybe Doyoung had sent him something. 

But there wasn’t anything other than the _I love you too_ he sent over an hour ago. 

**Doie** ** <333 **

Doie, where are you? 

Are you really waiting out the rain? 

Because if so then I can come bring you an umbrella 

_Sent, 18:55_

Baby 

Doie, where are you? 

I’m starting to get nervous 

Doyoung 

Please 

Where are you? 

Is everything okay? 

_Sent, 18:57_

Do I have to go pick you up? 

Did you go to the convenience store? 

Doyoung please don’t mess with me 

Why aren’t you replying!? 

Did your phone die? 

I’ll call you 

_Sent, 18:59_

And Taeyong did just that. He quickly clicked the dial button next to Doyoung’s contact, putting the phone to his ear. Every repeating ringing tone made his heart stop, hands sweating as the panic started setting in properly. Every time the pause became longer, Taeyong felt a moment of relief, thinking that Doyoung had picked up, only to be disappointed when the line rung again. 

He stood like that, phone to his ear, waiting and waiting for what felt like eons before he finally heard _the number you have called is currently unavailable_. 

To calm himself, Taeyong told himself that Doyoung’s phone had died – that there was nothing wrong, even if deep inside he felt a dark, consuming dread. 

Doyoung would never leave with his phone not at least half charged. But maybe today he did. Maybe he was just in a rush. After all, why would he need his phone for a short run over to the shops? Maybe he just wasted the remaining battery he had left playing some games as he waited for the rain to stop. That was a possibility, and Taeyong tried to make that the case. 

But the minutes kept on ticking by, and the more time passed, the less believable Taeyong’s reasoning became. 

Taeyong’s heart was pounding, his body and mind constantly on edge. He felt on the verge of tears, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly, the nerves getting the best of him. He was chewing on his nails, creating an utter mess of them as he couldn’t stop himself. 

His one moment of relief came when he heard a knock on the door. 

Taeyong ran forward, practically stumbling over his own two feet. 

“Doyoung,” he called, his shaky hands unlocking the door. “Did you lose your key? Is that why you-” Taeyong came to a drastic halt when the face he saw on the other side of the door wasn’t that of his fiancé but of a police officer. 

Taeyong’s blood ran cold, his head slowly shaking. 

“Does a Kim Dongyoung live here?” 

“Y-yes,” Taeyong replied, voice wavering. His mind went to the worst – that Doyoung had gotten into an accident and landed in hospital. Why else would he get a visit from an officer? But that didn’t make sense, wouldn’t he have gotten a call from the hospital? 

“And who would he be to you?” The police woman asked. 

“I-I’m his partner,” Taeyong replied, hand clutching over his heart. “Why? What’s happened to him? Is he okay?” 

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said truly apologetically, her eyes downcast. “There was an accident. Mr. Kim was pronounced dead at the scene.” 

With one sentence, Taeyong’s entire world came crashing down. He didn’t start crying his heart out – not yet at least. He just fell to the ground, down on his knees, eyes blank as the words echoed through his head. 

Pronounced dead at the scene. 

Dead at the scene. 

Dead. 

Doyoung was dead. 

Doyoung – Taeyong's Doyoung, his love, his world, his universe and life – was dead. 

That wasn’t right. That was impossible. Doyoung couldn’t be dead. They were wrong; Doyoung wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be dead. There was absolutely no way on earth that that was possible. 

“I’m truly sorry,” the police officer uttered. “I know this must be a lot to process right now.” 

Taeyong looked up at the woman, eyes filled with tears. He didn’t even realise he started crying; the tears came flowing out without him knowing, staining his face in hot, salty streaks. He was shaking his head, denying everything the woman had told him. He denied the news and he denied the woman’s sympathetic apology. She was wrong. 

“No,” Taeyong uttered. “You’re lying.” Taeyong’s only line of defence was denial. If he denied it enough, then the words spoken by the officer wouldn’t have been true. 

“Unfortunately, I’m not.” 

“You are!” Taeyong exclaimed, his heart shattering. “You are,” he repeated meekly through tears. “You are. He-he's not dead!” Taeyong argued all he wanted, but he wasn’t getting anyway. “He can’t be,” he added, softly, filled with utter despair. 

“I know it hurts,” the officer assured. She bent down, stroking down Taeyong’s arm to calm and reassure him. “How about we talk? Let’s get you up,” she said, helping to pull the man up. She led them both inside, urging Taeyong to sit and get his head clear. 

Of course, that was impossible. Taeyong couldn’t stop thinking – though maybe that also wasn’t the right way to put it. Taeyong wasn’t as much thinking as he was denying everything constantly. Each word spoken by the police officer, he denied without a second to think. He denied everything. He denied the explanation of the events that transpired. He denied everything. 

If he denied enough, then Doyoung wouldn’t be dead. 

He just had to believe Doyoung would still come home. 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

Taeyong stared up, eyes locked with the front door, back pressed against the side of the couch. 

If he looked long enough, he could see Doyoung walk in as he always has. 

He just had to believe he would come in again. 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

It was a hit and run. The driver – now identified and charged – had lost control of his car during the heavy downpour, slipping out of his lane and charging into Doyoung who was walking on the sidewalk. Doyoung didn’t see, his back turned away from the driver, eyes on his phone as he was typing out a message to Taeyong. He couldn’t see the car heading his way – he didn’t even have a moment to react before he was ran over, killed on the spot. 

People at the sight rushed over to the scene, but even then, Doyoung was already gone. The ambulance was called, yet there was no use; Doyoung had died instantly. The paramedics couldn’t save him – nobody could. 

Taeyong got to see Doyoung once more to identify the body. But what he saw wasn’t his Doyoung. His Doyoung wasn’t so pale, so cold and stiff. His Doyoung was filled with life, and the man laid down in front of him, covered in a shroud, was far from alive. That wasn’t right. Nothing made sense. 

Unfortunately though, it was Doyoung. That man was Taeyong’s Doyoung, even if Taeyong cried and argued that it wasn’t - that his Doyoung was still alive, that he would still come back and that they got the wrong man. 

He had to be held back by his friends otherwise he would have done things he himself wasn’t sure of. Taeyong wanted to fight everyone, to demand they find his Doyoung. 

Johnny and Yuta had to calm him down, hold him tight and reassure him that it was okay, that he had the right to be angry and sad, but that he shouldn’t deny the truth. 

Taeyong spent the night crying, wrapped up in the embrace of his best friend. It was the only sense of comfort he had. 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

There still were no movements in the house. The front door was still locked, and Taeyong was still the only one present. He was alone, but he didn’t want to be – he couldn’t be. 

Nothing felt right. 

Two months of deafening silence and Taeyong couldn’t handle it any longer. It was driving him insane and if the front door didn’t open in the next five minutes, Taeyong would end up screaming and shouting and crying until he couldn’t scream or shout or cry any more. All he ever felt these days was empty and lonely, and the only thing which could save him from the self-consuming void inside him would end up swallowing him whole until there was nothing left of him in the end. 

Taeyong didn’t even know what stage of grief he was in – though he would argue he’s been through all of them minus acceptance at least once already. He was stuck in what was an endless loop of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, each wave stronger or more consuming than the previous one. He couldn’t get out, constantly hoping that he would just end up waking up from this never-ending nightmare and find himself wrapped in Doyoung’s arms, safe and away from all the pain he had felt from the moment Doyoung stepped out of their four walls. 

And he blamed himself the most – not the driver, not the weather, nothing, just himself. If he hadn’t been so forgetful when he went shopping and he didn’t forget to buy the coffee and sugar, then Doyoung would have never had a need to go outside, and if he never went outside, he would have never died. It all stemmed back to Taeyong. He was responsible for Doyoung’s untimely death, and he couldn’t live with himself knowing that. 

And if someone had to died, why couldn’t it have been him instead? Why Doyoung? Why him of all people? 

Taeyong would never know the answer to those questions, no matter how much he wanted to. 

All that was left of Doyoung was a ghost which lingered in the house and within Taeyong’s heart – a memory of used to be and a bitter sweet image of what could have been. All his belongings were with Taeyong, including his phone and the ring he wore as a promise of their undying love. 

Taeyong wore both of their rings, always keeping Doyoung by his side. 

He had looked at Doyoung’s phone only once since he died, only ever checking the last thing Doyoung saw. It was a text message he never had the chance to send. 

_I’ll be home soon! I got caught in the rain but hey, I’ll get warmed up with a hot drink and plenty of cuddles from you, won’t I? <3 _

Taeyong cried when he read it, and he cried whenever he thought about it. 

He’d be home soon. 

Taeyong had to be ready. 

He was ready. He had been ready for two months already. 

Doyoung still didn’t come, and he wouldn’t. But Taeyong still waited. 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

The funeral was one of the worst days in Taeyong’s life. It was the last goodbye, after all.

He had only ever been to a funeral twice before when he was younger. He never expected he would have to go to one in his twenties, especially if it was for someone who shouldn’t have died in the first place. Doyoung was still so young; there was still so much time left for him to live. Doyoung should have lived a long, happy life with Taeyong by his side. He shouldn’t have to be dead at the age of twenty-six. 

Taeyong received plenty of condolences from all the funeral attendees, all offering words of reassurance, encouragement and comfort, but Taeyong could barely listen. All Taeyong could do was stare over at Doyoung’s framed photograph, bouquets of flowers surrounding it. All he could do was wish he could finally wake up from this hellish nightmare. 

But he never did. He never woke up. 

“Hey,” Johnny called softly as he approached Taeyong. “You should eat something, Yong.” 

“Not hungry,” the younger of the two replied, blank eyes staring out to Doyoung’s memorial. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Johnny sighed. He reached his hand out, placing it on Taeyong’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. “Of course it matters,” he uttered. “You have to take care of yourself, Taeyong. I’ll go get you something, okay?” 

Taeyong shrugged, not sparing his best friend another look. 

Taking care of himself came difficult when he didn’t care. Taeyong didn’t care anymore. If Doyoung was gone, what purpose did living on have? He felt cold, empty, lonely beyond compare and he simply didn’t care. It would have been easier if he just died too, at least then, if there was anything after death, he would be with Doyoung. And if there wasn’t, at least Taeyong wouldn’t have to live on without Doyoung by his side. 

Death felt like the easiest option. 

Johnny returned with a plate, handing it over to Taeyong. The younger tried to push it aside, but he couldn’t win against Johnny. 

In the end, Taeyong ate something. 

“You know you’re not alone, right?” Johnny asked, looking over at a vacant Taeyong. “You still have us, and we’re all here for you: me, Yuta, Taeil, Jaehyun, Mark, Ten, Jungwoo, the whole lot. If you need anything, we’ll be there for you.” 

Taeyong didn’t need anything, he just needed Doyoung. 

His friends couldn’t help him with that though – nobody could. 

“It’s gonna be tough, I know,” Johnny continued. “But I’m sure that wherever he is right now, Doyoung is looking over you.” 

The tears came with no warning. 

“Oh god,” Johnny uttered, already regretting everything he said. 

Taeyong threw himself over Johnny, sobbing into his shoulder. Numerous pairs of eyes turned to them, but nobody could begin to judge. Everyone knew how hard Taeyong was taking everything. All they offered were sympathetic looks. 

“I-I don’t want him to look over me,” Taeyong sobbed, his hands clutching onto Johnny’s suit. “I want him to be here.” 

“I know,” the older muttered, running his hand up and down Taeyong’s back reassuringly. “I know.” 

“I need him.” 

“I know, Taeyong. I know,” Johnny whispered softly. “It’s okay. Don’t hold back.” 

Taeyong cried more and more until it felt like he had used up all of his reserves. His eyes were red and puffy, face stained with glossy streaks. All the crying had just made him tired, and the headache that came after was numbing. 

Taeyong excused himself and walked back to the room with Doyoung’s picture, kneeling down on the floor, staring up at the photograph of his lost love. He was torturing himself at that point – even he realised that – but that was the only thing he could do. 

“Doyoung,” Taeyong croaked out, his knuckles white as he gripped onto his pants. “Please... please come back to me. I-I can’t do this without you. I- I can’t,” he mourned, surprising himself when more tears managed to spill out and drop down onto his lap. “I can’t,” he repeated, desperate and broken. “Please. Come back to me!” Taeyong cried out, prostrating in front of the memorial. “Please! Please...” 

Taeyong’s body shuddered as he sobbed, tears rolling down and wetting the floor beneath him. 

He didn’t know how he found himself in Johnny’s apartment, wrapped up in blankets and kept safe. Everything that happened after the funeral was a blur. Taeyong didn’t remember anything other than the fact that he was crying. Maybe he had to be dragged away, forced to leave before he passed out or did something stupid. He wasn’t sure, but he was sure he was with Johnny. 

The older took him to his own place, believing Taeyong was better off with someone to keep him company instead of allowing himself to get lost in his own thoughts. 

Maybe he was right. 

Taeyong managed to fall asleep, free of the suffocating silence of his home. 

But was it even a home without Doyoung? 

With the soft rain outside the window, Taeyong finally let himself rest. 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

Fidling with his rings, Taeyong felt weak. 

He did this to himself every single night, and every single night, all he got was a reminder he was in fact alone. It never got easier. It always hurt him just as much. 

Taeyong sucked his bottom lip in, biting down as he tried to contain the tears welling behind his eyes. It truly felt like all he had done for the past two months was cry; he didn’t even know it was possibly to cry so much, but he was left surprised when he’d start weeping when he thought he ran out of tears to cry. 

“Please,” he whispered, not sure what he was pleading for in the first place. Did he want to stop crying? Did he want to move on? Or was he still pleading for the front door to open and reveal Doyoung? “Please,” he repeated, voice strained and shaky. 

His phone vibrated, offering a brief moment of escapism from everything. 

He reached out and unlocked without checking. 

Johnny. 

Of course it was him. 

**Johnny**

Go to sleep 

I know you’re still up 

Please, Yong 

You have to take care of yourself 

Doyoung wouldn’t want you to suffer like this 

You know that 

So please 

Go to sleep 

I know you’re reading these 

Taeyong locked his phone. 

Since Doyoung’s passing, Johnny had become what felt like Taeyong’s carer. He was the only one who could help with Taeyong’s self-destructive tendencies; he wasn’t the only one who had tried, but he was the only one that managed to get through to Taeyong in a way that made a slight difference. Johnny was there to catch Taeyong when he fell, saving him before he starved himself to death and before he let himself go completely. Taeyong wanted to thank Johnny, but he was too weak for that. 

Taeyong tossed his phone aside as he slowly pulled himself up from the floor. His body ached from sitting down on the hard floor for so long, but he couldn’t care – nothing ever compared to the ache he felt constantly in his heart. It was a numbing yet absolutely crushing pain which followed him at all times, making everything so much harder. It was easier to just do nothing in the end. At least that way he only felt numb. 

He shuffled over to the middle of the living room, standing around aimlessly. 

Most of the time, Taeyong had no idea what to do with himself. When he wasn’t at work, he truly felt like his life was devoid of any meaning. Even the things which used to give him joy barely managed to satiate the absorbing, exhausting sadness within him. 

Taeyong’s eyes locked with the record player tucked to the corner of the room. He had bought it a few years ago for Doyoung’s birthday after the younger kept talking about how cool the device was. Doyoung had a similar taste as one of their friends – Jaehyun – who also had a record player. He knew he had to have one too, so Taeyong made that happen. 

They used the thing regularly, buying a new vinyl record pretty much every week until they had accumulated a pretty large stack or two or three. They had so many, yet they listened to them all frequently, spending some nights just listening and dancing to the music playing from the speakers. It was something Taeyong had grown used to, expecting it at least once a week. 

But it had been two months now and he hadn’t listened to any record even once. He hadn’t danced with his love for what felt like a whole lifetime. 

It was a crushing reality. 

Taeyong shuffled over to the player, stroking the piece of equipment. There was a layer of dust over it – something which had become a frequent sight across the apartment as Taeyong struggled to find the will to clean. Johnny, Taeil and Ten stopped by a few times to help out, but even the three of them weren’t the type of clean freaks that Taeyong and Doyoung were. They did something, but the house was never as clean as it used to be when the two fiancés lived there together. 

He had an urge. 

He turned it on. 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

A month in, Taeyong was doing... well, he wasn’t doing great. He could barely sleep, and when he did, he mostly managed by passing out from exhaustion. Work was tedious and though most people there understood what he was going through, it still wasn’t enough of an excuse for him to act like a shell of a man all the time he was working. He had to get a grip – or at least pretend. 

So, he pretended. The façade he put up was passable and believable enough that he was left alone at work, but as soon as he was off, he went back to his true self. He was falling apart bit by bit. 

Each night, Taeyong would try to lay in a bed that was far too big for just him. He would pray, plead, wish and hope that Doyoung would return, but that never yielded any results. He did everything he could, but nothing ever worked. 

Trying to fall asleep felt like a chore, so at a certain point he also gave up on that. Instead, he would go to the living room and sit down either on the couch or floor, his eyes directed at the entrance way, waiting for the doors to swing open. 

He would wait for hours and only end up hurt in the process. 

It was all too much for him. 

Some days, Taeyong would wake up in the living room instead of the bedroom, but that didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered to him anymore. 

But it was about a month in when the shattering pain Taeyong felt morphed into something different. 

It morphed into anger. 

Anger and bargaining. 

Taeyong knew about the stages of grief; his mother read a few books when she was dealing with the death of her brother, and in turn, Taeyong also skimmed through. He was never entirely sure how accurate said stages were, yet when he found himself in his mother’s position from all those years ago, he thought that maybe there was something of substance to the claims. Maybe it wasn’t exactly as it was explained, however, Taeyong understood the words written out in all those books he had seen in his youth. 

Johnny had stopped by one day to help Taeyong. The younger didn’t want help but it was pretty much impossible to fight against Johnny. It was a losing battle anyway. 

The older cleaned up a bit and once he was done, he decided to cook something for Taeyong. 

“What are you craving?” Johnny asked. 

Taeyong shrugged, his back pressed against the wall. 

“Okay, I’ll think of something. How about my speciality? You know you can’t resist it,” Johnny said, trying his hardest to cheer Taeyong up by acting goofy and playful. Even that didn’t work. Johnny sighed. “Wanna help me or do you just wanna stick around, keep me some company?” 

“The latter,” Taeyong replied. 

“Fine by me, Yong.” 

Johnny started pulling out some ingredients out of the fridge, most of which he bought since Taeyong was adamant on skipping most of his meals. If it wasn’t for the older, Taeyong would have probably starved himself. 

As he kept grabbing things, Johnny was running out of surface area. He looked around and spotted an empty place on the counter. He placed a few things down; however, he also did something which Taeyong didn’t appreciate in the slightest bit. 

“Leave it,” Taeyong ordered, sounding harsh and serious. 

“Huh? This?” Johnny asked, holding up the mug which had been left out on the counter ever since that day. “It’s covered in dust. You should clean it.” 

“Yes, I’m talking about that. Now leave it,” Taeyong said. 

It was clear from his tone that Taeyong was serious. 

“Taeyong...” 

“Leave it!” Taeyong didn’t know he had it in him to shout. After such a long time filled with tears and mere whispers, Taeyong’s sudden outburst left both men shocked. “Leave it,” the man repeated, this time less aggressive. 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so,” Taeyong replied, knowing full well that if he gave the true reason for his reluctance Johnny would go on and on trying to tell him he had to let go. Taeyong heard the speech plenty of times before. He didn’t need a reminder. 

“Taeyong... I know this is Doyoung’s,” Johnny stated. “Now tell me, please.” 

Taeyong clenched his jaw, eyes shifting around the small room. 

“Taeyong-” 

“It’s for his coffee, okay? Are you happy now?” 

The older looked at Taeyong with a sense of almost pity. Taeyong hated it. 

“He’s not coming back, okay?” Johnny affirmed. Hearing that was like getting ran over by a truck once Taeyong was already down. It was yet another blow which just added onto the immense pain he was in. It did nothing to help him get up though. “I know it hurts like hell, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” 

Johnny was about to take the cup to the sink when Taeyong stopped him. Though of course, Johnny was stronger. The older rinsed out the mug as Taeyong tried to stop him. In the end, Johnny put it away in the cupboard. 

“Taeyong, please, you have to try and get a start on moving on,” Johnny stated. “You can’t wallow in this pain forever.” 

“Watch me-” 

“Taeyong,” Johnny called, more like a warning than anything. “I care about you; the reason I seem so harsh on you is because I care about you. You have to move on and the sooner you start _trying_ , the sooner you’ll stop feeling like shit all the time. Just try.” 

Taeyong swallowed, sharp yet empty eyes staring at Johnny. 

He agreed, but deep inside he knew he was lying to the both of them. 

And he did lie, because every day after that happened, Taeyong would go into the kitchen and grab Doyoung’s mug, placing it out on the counter so that it was ready for when Doyoung came back. He would rinse it in the morning and leave it overnight, repeating the act over and over until one night he snapped. 

It happened when he dragged himself over to the kitchen for a glass of water and a pain killer. His throat was sore and the thumping in his head became unbearable. He swallowed the pill down, chasing it down with a big glass of water. 

As he gulped down more and more of the water, his eyes were transfixed on Doyoung’s mug, the small bunnies far too cheerful looking for Taeyong. 

The more he stared, the angrier he got. 

Taeyong finished his drink, walking over to the counter. He picked up the mug, holding it up with a tight grasp. 

All this time, Taeyong kept leaving out the mug for Doyoung so that once he would come back from the shops, he could have his drink. All this time, Taeyong was waiting and waiting. But Doyoung wasn’t coming back. 

Doyoung left him. 

Doyoung left him all alone. 

Taeyong didn’t know what was happening, but he was becoming filled with burning rage at the mere sight of the mug, the cartoon bunny prints revolting and angering him the more he looked at them. 

Doyoung left him. 

Who gave him the right to leave Taeyong? He made a promise to be with Taeyong forever – that they would get married, move out, start a family, live together until they grew old, their hairs grey with age. 

Doyoung broke his promise. 

“How dare you?” Taeyong shouted. “How could you leave me? Why? I didn’t let you! You can’t leave me, so come back right now!” The man kept screaming, his body temperature rising drastically, his blood boiling with anger. “You can’t die, not yet! Fuck you!” 

Raising his arm, Taeyong yelled as he threw the mug across the kitchen, the fragile ceramic shattering as it hit the wall with great force. 

The moment the mug broke into dozens of pieces, Taeyong’s heart sank. 

He instantly rushed over, falling to his knees to quickly pick up all the smashed pieces. He was quick, ignoring when he cut himself on a sharp edge, small amounts of blood leaving him. He collected everything, rushing to put it on the counter with shaky hands. 

“No, no, no, no,” he uttered frantically, realising the mess the caused. “I’ll fix this. I’ll fix this, Doie,” he promised, slotting different pieces together in a crude attempt of putting the mug back to how it was before. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could bring it back. “Please, please come back. I’ll fix this for you, so come- come back.” 

All Taeyong was doing was making a mess, both of the remnants of the shattered mug and of his hands. He had no care whatsoever that he was hurting himself in the process, cutting his skin on the ceramic. He just had to put it back together. 

But the truth was, he couldn’t do it. No matter what he tried, he could never fix what was broken beyond repair. Just like he couldn’t fix the mug, he could also never bring back Doyoung. 

Taeyong sat himself on the floor, his back resting against the cabinets. 

Hiding his face in his knees, he cried. 

“Don’t leave me.” 

_Drip._

_Drop._

_Drip._

_Drop._

Taeyong grabbed an LP record – the one he and Doyoung loved listening to the most – and placed it on the player. He turned the player on before carefully dragging the needle over to the outer edge of the vinyl, the living room instantly filling with the crackle of the small needle reading over the bumps and grooves. 

He stood around as the first song started to play. Doyoung always complained how it dragged, but Taeyong enjoyed it. He thought it set the atmosphere nicely, and though Doyoung disagreed, he never made Taeyong skip it. Despite saying how he wasn’t fond of it, Taeyong did find Doyoung humming and swaying along to the melody more often than not. 

Taeyong waited and waited, listening to each song, waiting for the moment he heard the first note of _the_ song – their song. 

And once he heard it, Taeyong closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself. He swayed softly from side to side to the gentle melody. 

Taeyong imagined Doyoung there with him; he pretended that his arms were Doyoung’s and that the younger man was holding him in his sweet, loving embrace like he always did. He pictured Doyoung with him, smiling at him, looking at Taeyong with upmost love and affection behind his eyes. Doyoung always looked at Taeyong with such care, treasuring him the most in the entire world. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Taeyong asked, repeating the same words he said a whole lifetime ago. 

_“Like what?”_

“Like that,” Taeyong said through tears. 

_“Like you’re my world?”_

Taeyong nodded, jaw clenched as tears poured down his face. 

_“It’s obvious, isn’t it,_ _Yongie_ _? It’s because you are,”_ _Doyoung_ _uttered with a tender, sentimental smile. “You are my whole world. My world, my light, my love, my life.”_

“You’re-you’re such a sap,” Taeyong uttered, forcing out a chuckle through his tears. “Keep that for the proposal.” 

_Doyoung_ _laughed. “And what if this is the proposal? Would you say yes?”_

A chocked sob left Taeyong. “Y-yes. I’d say yes.” 

_“Then... will you marry me?”_

Taeyong smiled, the song nearing its end. “Yes. A million times yes.” He rubbed over his ring, remembering the moment Doyoung slipped it on. 

_“Then it’s a promise,”_ _Doyoung_ _uttered. “You and I, until the end of time.”_

“Until the end of time,” Taeyong confirmed, swallowing down on his sobs. 

And like that, their song ended. 

Doyoung was gone, leaving Taeyong once more. 

Taeyong’s breathing was ragged, salty tears staining his cheeks. He looked around the room, vision blurred. 

He was alone. 

He was alone. 

Doyoung was gone. 

Taeyong broke down, kneeling on the floor, sobbing until he couldn’t cry no more. 

Acceptance would take time, Taeyong knew that. He knew Doyoung was gone, but he still clung onto his ghost. He would hold on for as long as he could. 

Taeyong would try to move on, but for now, Taeyong coped in his own way. 

The record reached its end, and the only sounds left were the needle running over nothing, Taeyong’s chocked, heart wrenching sobs and the soft drip drop of the leaky faucet. 

**Author's Note:**

> The fact this is my first dotae fic..... I will atone for my sins, I promise. Forgive me. 
> 
> Hope you.... enjoyed? this? Anyway, thanks for reading.
> 
> My [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/teniljohnyong)  
> My [ CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/teniljohnyong)  
> 


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